Ravel’s erotic pastoral – the Greece of his dreams – finds a kindred spirit in Antonio Pappano. Sometimes in music it’s as simple as being temperamentally suited to a piece, other times it’s simply the chemistry between orchestra and conductor finding common purpose. The London Symphony Orchestra – the most brightly lit of orchestras – understand the word ‘lush’ better than most; they revel in the snap and crackle of rhythm and clarity of texture. And because this is LSO Live the opening measures of this iridescent score have the audience leaning in to catch the mysterious murmuring of strings so hushed as to induce a collective intake of breath.

Seduction is at the heart of the ballet and no one does sensuous, or indeed voluptuous, quite like Ravel – as witness the most famous daybreak in all music where the air positively hums. Heady, and then some. Pappano’s love of voices may be why the phrasing caresses in the way it does. I think of luminous (curvaceous) string textures and those balmy horn solos – high and airy and fleeting like a breath of perfumed air. The LSO’s woodwind choir yields distinct characters but equally a luxurious blend. Even the wind machine suggests panting warm breaths on the landscape.

Of course, Pappano rises to the swagger of the lusty pirates encouraging brilliant articulation from the LSO brass in turn pointing to the punchy brilliance of the final celebration. And what a good idea to deploy Tenebrae for the wordless chorus. Their prowess in archaic music where clean lines and immaculate tuning are everything proves a real boon here – not a hint of woolliness amid all the oohing and aahing. The competition is fierce, of course, but Pappano’s account of this wonderful score has the smell of the theatre about it, and that has to be a good thing.